Amber Walls
by ImperialGuardian09
Summary: Memories of a tragic history lead him to question the amber walls that rule his life.


Author's Note

I don't own Gundam Wing. Love to, but don't. See the profile for more info on where I've been, what happened, stuff like that. This little oneshot has just been waiting to be posted, so here you go!

**Amber Walls**

Amber walls. Right now, that's all he saw. These amber walls.

"_He's been deprived of motherly contact."_

Amber walls. Back then, they reached out and attempted to caress an inconsolable youth. He used to think they'd help him. In moments of fear, he ran right to its corners, holding himself in, trying not to cry. One could argue that it was the only way for him to retreat into the womb. To escape to the mother he could never find.

"_How could he even do what he did?"_

Amber walls. Decorated lavishly. No longer was he in the amber womb, but now the grand ballroom of a special place. He watched people party safely from his hidden perch, with a man he barely knew. This was not a place for a child his age, but he was not like other children. Never had been. This boy was heartless, or so they said. Nothing could taint him. Not even the man beside him, whose emotions would lead to his own death.

"_Heero! Hang on."_

Amber walls. Now in the embrace of someone new. Someone he'd never known. Her sweater, her voice, her manner. She cared. Something no one had ever done before. Never had the walls spoken back. Never had the walls done their task. He felt like the little child who hid precariously in the corner of his womb, afraid of the world just outside its grasp. Amber walls with a voice, a face, a name. Walls that would finally support his suppressed sobbing. He was confused. So he reacted like he'd be raised. Kill.

"_He's been so deprived."_

Deprived? Had he? The amber walls backed away, he fell into the dark. He stood, wearing nothing, feeling abnormally cold.

_Deprived_

Was he? He had everything anyone could want. Power, strength, unlimited funds. Wait, these were material. Everything he had—was material. How could he not see that before? Were the amber walls blinding him? Those amber walls that were trying to protect him—were they really good for him?

_Deprived_

Amber walls that couldn't speak, couldn't shout. They were gradually replaced with a new set. Until this last one. The last one, it wouldn't go. It would never replace itself. Why? It was a person. What hadn't he understood? Everything he read said that people were greedy. That they wanted things. Did he have what he wanted? Yes. Yes he did.

_DEPRIVED_

Why were they saying that? How could he not have it all? What was he missing? Motherly contact was unnecessary. He could prove it by looking at the other pilots as compared to himself. It would solve everything.

_Quatre_

This guy was easy to understand. He was weak-hearted. A tough fighter. The best strategist he'd seen by far. He played his hand well ninety-five percent of the time.

_Wufei_

Another easy one. Hated the indirect approach, but was fairly thorough in his work. There was little he couldn't do by brute force.

_Trowa_

Short of his attachment to that girl in his cover, he was practically a mirror of himself. He had little to complain about Trowa.

_Duo_

How was he even a pilot? He had the attitude of a child, as many said, and yet he was a violent killer. This one was confusing, and he had very little matronly contact.

What had this solved? Trowa, one who'd been deprived of motherly contact, was happy. Duo, who had some matronly contact, was rather awkward. In fact, he wondered if this was what was wrong with the boy. Too much contact seemed to turn you soft, and yet not enough made you—childish. So obviously, none was perfect, because then you would never—would never find someone who cared—or feel the need to be there—to care about them—to want to protect them—was he becoming soft? Were the amber walls finally breaking him? Was there no way to truly be perfect, just so long as these amber walls remained? So the only way was to kill them. To kill these amber walls that held him in.

_Kill. Kill. Kill._

A personal mantra that drove his suit forward in the past. A plan that would truly work flawlessly—if it were not for those amber walls. Mysteriously, the very walls he wished to destroy, were the same ones that he could not. As much as he wanted to stop them, to end this heart, he could not. The amber walls were very formidable. The only opponent he could never destroy. For it found a place in his soul, embedded itself there, and made itself known. It—unlike all the material possessions he had ever owned, made him happy.


End file.
